John Wick 3: Burning From Thr33 3nds
by Uskius
Summary: It's a very strange day for John Wick: at his favorite coffee shop his friend Clara asks him to marry her- but as he soon learns, there's more to the proposal than meets the eye. This is the first fan fiction story for the third John Wick movie!


At 4:37 AM John Wick awoke, gasping with great inhalations. He dreamed he was arm wrestling Hulk Hogan except in the dream he was Hull Kogan and snorted a lot, and on the table where their hands might touch it were buttons that would cause a gun to fire at the loser; John had worked up a lot of his Redonkulousness Meter(™) and was going to use his Super Move when Hull Kogan snorted and turned Super Saiyan, and that was when he woke up.

John pondered the dream, and after a brooding acoustic guitar and piano music started up, he sang with softness,

"Flickers and reflections  
Puzzle pieces change  
I felt this feeling once before  
Crying in the rain

Shifting premonition  
Kaleidoscope deranged  
Dreams surprise, evaporating  
Destiny in pain

Whisper into my ear  
The things of love I have forgotten  
I'm married to a beast I cannot tame…"

Sighing, John turned on the TV and began his morning Jazzercise and TaeBo. He went super hard, giving it all of his emotions. "Teach me, Billy! Teach me!" After working up a sweat and taking a quick steamy shower, John put on his suit and went to his favorite coffee shop to get a cup. It was still quite early in the morning, so the usual auto-pilot zombie crowd wasn't as thick as it normally was, and the traffic didn't make John want to quit everything forever. The sign of the 24/7 coffee shop buzzed with pink and purple neonness, flickering with the spelling of Sugondese in Morse Code. Ordering his usual mocha cappuccino, John went back out to sit on the patio and enjoy the traffic white noise. Keeping his pinky extended, he sipped his coffee, noting it tasted liked paper with hints of milk chocolate. " _Huh. Must have just washed the pot,"_ John thought with sippings.

Hearing the footsteps of running approaching, John cocked his ear and listened. " _Shorter stride, female and athletic, about thirteen miles per hour; emphasis on one foot, a hip or lower back injury, maybe?"_ John took another sip of his coffee calmly, leaning forwards to rest an elbow on the table so his coat was open and he could reach inside quickly. "Three, two, one…" The person of running came into view under the glow from the cafe lamps, and he saw it was his friend Clara Bartz, wearing a long olive green survival trench coat over her normal almost cool millennial punk-rock attire.

"There's my man! I've been circling the block since about three thirty!"

"Morning, Clara. Thought you hated this place's coffee," John greeted with wonderings.

"Would rather snort mustard powder," Clara affirmed, taking big huff and puff breaths. John stood and pulled out a chair for her, but she remained standing.

"Not gonna stay to chat for a minute?"

"No, I was, but… um…" Looking away with shyness, Clara unzipped her coat and took out a curious small box. "Okay. Alright." Catching her breath, Clara got down on one knee and opened the box, holding it up so John could see the very fancy ring inside. "John Wick, will you be my wife?" John's mouth hung open, and his coffee cup slipped from his hand, landing on the arm of his chair. "Oh- uh- I meant husband, unless there's something you'd like to tell me." Clearing her throat, Clara looked away for a second and then back to John. "John Wick, will you marry me?"

"Clara, I thought… you weren't interested in men," John whispered, glancing at the people now watching from inside the shop out of the corner of his eye, "Unless there's something you haven't told me."

"Nope, totally still gay. But that's not important. John Wick, will you be my wi- dang it!- be my husband?" Clara asked, her eyes twinkling. "Pretty please? With a cherry on top?"

"Look, Clara. We're good friends, but… we're just that, friends. In fact, I distinctly remember you saying once I wouldn't be your type if you went for guys. What's brought about the sudden change of heart?"

Looking aside at the people in the coffee shop, Clara cleared her throat with preparingness, a stirring string and piano music arising.

"I always knew  
That I had a choice to make  
That I could just hide away  
Or be myself

This decision  
Haunting me inside  
With you by my side  
I could face the world with pride  
But turn my life into a lie

I always knew  
That when that voice told me to wait  
It tried to save me from the chase  
I didn't care

Walk with me now  
The time is finally right  
My heart has wings to fly  
One word could change our lives  
And turn this Hell to paradise…"

John stepped over and leaned down, giving Clara a gentle kiss on the forehead as he closed her ring box. The chorus of aws and boos of the people inside the shop distracted him for a moment, one crumpling up their napkin "Say yes!" sign and throwing it down disgustedly. "Listen, Clara, we'll talk about this later. There's still plenty of time to go over this today."

"Not really," Clara said with a sigh, standing up.

"Huh? Do you have a job later today?" In the distance, John heard the screeching. " _Tightly controlled drift! Time to boogie!"_ He thought, grabbing Clara's hand and dashing towards his beloved car. "Do we need to head to Don Panini's?"

"I got fully stocked up before I came over. It's hard for me to tell when I'll need to shoot my way out of a situation when we meet up," Clara said as they dashed around the corner to the alley. "By the way, you really should marry me."

"We'll talk more about that once we lose them!" John opened the door of his forest green '04 Pontiac Vibe and jumped in right as bullets chased his heels. Clara was not far behind, and a tight sequence of gear shifting close-ups ensued as John got the car started and accelerated faster than a shotgun wedding in the South. Pulling out her custom Reuger, Clara looked out through the back window before getting buckled with clickings.

"Oh hey, this is the Vibe. You still drive this thing?" Wondered Clara with askings.

"I got a little attached to it after that day," Said John, talking of the times of danger when he and Clara first met. A taxi sped by less than a foot from John's side as he drifted out of the alley, and he heard the honkings and tire wailings that said his pursuers were still hot on his trail. "Driving, driving- into danger…" John sang with the melody of spies.

"What are you doing, there's no backing music right now!"

"My therapist said singing could help!" Replied John, getting unbuckled and motioning for Clara to take over. He cranked down the window like a dynamo of fury, and climbed out onto the roof. Clara did a fast one-eighty and put the car in reverse, bringing John face to face with his chasers. Then a music of hard action and drama did start up, and a masked gunner climbed to the top of the pitch black Aston Martin One-77 to begin the duel.

"I've got you right where I want you!  
You are in my sights!" The shooter raised their metallic red and blue guns, firing them simultaneously with simultaneousnesses at John.

"You picked a real bad wall to run through  
You won't see the morning light!"John sang, hitting a high note as he shot out the One-77's front lights.

"It's high noon without the sun,  
Whack-A-Mole with guns!" They sang in unison, looking like maestros conducting a symphony of fireflies as they traded gunfire with passion. But John saw how serious his opponent was getting. As they raised their guns, he did a barrel roll off of the Vibe, hanging on to the luggage rack as Clara took a sharp left. He aimed for the tire of the One-77, and blew it out as it made the turn, causing it to lean up on two wheels for a moment and dump off the shooter. John was about to sigh in relief, but then he saw a masked man with a rocket launcher climb out of the One-77, which was still coming at him like a high-school Nice Guy that got rejected by his crush.

Then Clara leaned out of her window and shot the rocket launcher dude. She did a one-eighty, and John used the momentum to swing back up onto the roof of the Vibe, and Clara scooted over to let him back in. "Nice driving," John said with compliments.

"Yeah, that was pretty gnarly. Haven't driven a stick shift for a while." John buckled his seatbelt and holstered his gun, the mood of air in the car now with more relaxings.

Sighing, Clara put away her gun and got buckled. "So… about marrying me."

"So you really are serious about that? Listen, if it's something legal, I can get you help."

"I am serious, John, but it's something different. Al was posing as a client, and he put me in a catch twenty-two: either marry you, or… or the fighter jets at the flyover for the ball game tonight won't be for show."

John unwrapped Clara's words with mental unpackingnesses. "Barone, Wilczewski, Oppenheimer, Lewis…?"

"Al, as in the initials A L," Answered Clara looking over at John. "Alexander Lukashenko."

"Lukashenko? But he doesn't have any military ties."

"He does, however, own three jets and knows a few Syrian arms dealers. I woke up at the hanger," Clara said, crossing her arms and looking back out to the road. "He beat the going price for the Thunderbirds by a mile, so that's how he got in. Look. I know what we do isn't legal, and like ninety-nine percent of the time I don't even care about who's on the other end of my gun, but I'm still human. I've never had an opportunity like this to, to do something _good_ , for once."

John sat with silences for several moments. "...You're right. What we do isn't legal… but there are people who would do a lot worse if we weren't around. I- I learned, that if you give up on love, you give up on life. Lukashenko is trying to break us, to taunt us before a coup. So right now it's not whether I want to marry you, but if I still believe in love." John looked over to Clara with a friendly seriousness. "The answer to that question is yes."

"Why do I get the feeling you trust Lukashenko less than you believe in love?"

"Because I do. Look, those people can't be the only ones he sent to tail us. He may be the new Russian in town, but his fence is still the same. I'll take care of them while you take tour around the city, then we'll meet up at Don Panini's and have a shotgun wedding." Clara tried hard not to grin, and John parked in an alley.

"Sure you're gonna be okay with walking?" Clara asked as John exited the car.

"I just realized where we're close to. I'm gonna catch a ride over there." Nodding, Clara scooted over and shut the door, and John walked off at a brisk pace of four point eight miles an hour. He heard Clara drive off as he came out the alley like a man walking out of an alley. He squinted to zoom in, and saw the place he was looking for down the block and across the street.

There was a replacing of door jingles with automated neighing as John walked in a few minutes later. There was only a hint of the smell, and the place was modern instead of with a farm's wholesomenesses. "Hello sir! How can I help you today?" Asked the front desk lady.

"Yes, I'll need your fastest horse."

"Just a single horse carriage this morning?"

"No. Just the horse."

"Our escorted rides are reservation only."

"No escort needed," John said confidently.

"Okay. I'll book you a ride. When's a good time-"

"Right now."

"Sir, I just mentioned that escorted rides are only by-" John cut her short by tossing a stack of hundred dollar bills at her forehead. "...Oh look, our six o' clock just pulled out. Head through that door there and ask for Binky," She said, pointing behind her and stuffing the bills into her top.

The horse smells intensified, and after walking along the hall John saw the door of exiting, and went out of it to find the stables, and a stablehand doing the morning feeding. "Hey, I'm looking for Binky."

"Oh, she's down in the stall by the end on this side," They said, dumping the bucket of feed over the stall door without looking at John. He shrugged, having expected more suspicions, and soon saw Binky looking towards him as he approached.

"My name is John," John whispered into her ear as he opened her stall door. There was a saddle and harness on the inside of the door, and quickly got Binky dressed for the things of action. "Alright, let's go!" John mounted up, and Binky whinnied and did a wheelie before storming off with vengeance. He guided her through the alleys towards the inconspicuous rows of brownstones. He also had to do his maneuverings around cars once he got to the street. He reigned in Binky and dismounted quickly, tying her reigns to the handrail on the stairs and rubbing her neck before bounding up the steps and giving a kick with a kung fu surgeon's preciseness to break open the door.

He heard soft kitchen sounds, and drew his gun with preparingnesses. "Dad, you know mom doesn't like you slamming the front door!" Walking through the front hallway, John came into the kitchen and saw a girl of teenage years in pajamas making french toast.

"I think your mom will forgive him this time," John said, having put his gun away for a moment.

"What?! Are you a friend of dad's, or something?"

"Today I'm 'or something'." John held out his wrist and wiggled it, and after a moment the girl understood and flipped the slice of bread. "I know exactly what you are going to do after I leave, so in advance, tell Sergeant Spiccoli that he'll have bigger problems on his hands unless I can take a day or two to myself to get the matter your father and I are involved in sorted out."

"What? Are you with the I.R.S. or a collection agency? My dad's just a normal guy."

"...Some days I do handle debts. To be honest your father and I are in the same situation, but today is my day to collect. I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" The girl asked, squinting and flipping her auburn braid over her shoulder.

"My name is John Wick," John said over his shoulder, heading upstairs towards where he had assuming of there the master bedroom would be, taking out his gun and putting a silencer on it.

"Thandie, who is it that you're talking with down there?" John waited behind the foyer corner, and as soon as Lukashenko's fence stepped onto it he fired a clean and deadly shot and removed the silencer, putting his gun away.

"He tripped and hit his head against the wall. Out cold," Said John, looking at the ground as he shut the stair door behind him and left the home. Binky whinnied as she looked up at him. "Time to go, girl." He whispered of gently in her ear. Unknotting her reigns, he hopped up and pranced away at a briskly galloping trot.

There were many honkings at him crossing the street, but he ignored them as he made his way to the plaza where Don Panini's was. The nervousnesses of the day became a hum in the back of his mind as the streetlamps sped by like the spirit of the city blinking. The hum became louder the closer he got to the plaza, and John felt the watchings of evil on him. Looking back, he saw two motorcycle riders, trying to have inconspicuousness as they wove through traffic. He flicked the reigns lightly and Binky sped up, and he took the sudden right and slipped into an alley. There was the buzz-roar of the motorcycles speeding up, and before John knew what was happening, the riders were close by.

"Did you think it would be that easy?!" One of the riders shouted. "You just cut the cord of the chandelier over your head!"

"There are always consequences for taking out someone that's been an installation as long as him- or me!" John shouted back over the echoing reverberationings of the motorcycle noises in the alley.

"You're even telling us that you knew better, Wick!"

"If you rat enough people out, eventually someone else finds the cheese!" John quipped with the trappings of bait. Seeing that a delivery truck was parked right across from a dumpster without enough room for Binky, he pinched his heels into her side and flicked the reigns. As Binky came to the dumpster she jumped over it into the wall, her shoes sparking like an angry forge as she scrabbled across the wall. John turned and pulled out his gun in mid-air, the bullet firing in slow motion and panning to the rider before the speednesses resumed and they fell off their bike. As the other rider caught up, John rounded the corner and came to the strip mall ahead of the plaza.

Tense electro-symphonic music came up, and the rider drew their own gun. "Lukashenko sends you his regards!"

"Not today! A gay woman wants me to marry her!" John angrily leveled his gun at the rider as they passed the 24 Hour Fitness, and pulled the trigger, the rider losing control as they slumped over. Though no words came to mind, John stood tall in the stirrups and did a graceful swan pose as the very early morning air washed over him. After a few moments he sat back down, and went into the alley on the far side of the plaza. He had slight relievings to see the Vibe parked in the alley, and Clara getting out and waving with a grin of silliness.

"Dude! You didn't tell me you had a _rocket launcher_ in the trunk!"

"For emergencies only," John explained, motioning for Clara to follow him inside. Don Panini's was relatively quiet, with a couple people looking at the super pricey stuff in the loft, and a few more on the shop floor.

"Well, if it isn't two of my regulars! Good to see you guys today," Don Panini said. He had the look of a man not too much older than John with the heritage of Italy, with a strong mustache and stubble.

"You too, Don. Standard fill-up," Replied John.

"Wha, no shotgun and ammo?" Clara asked with playful elbowings.

"Fine," John sighed. "We'll take that one there and a box of ammo."

"Not your usual style," Don said coyly. "What's the special occasion?"

Clara cleared her throat, and tucked stray strands of her blonde hair behind her ear. She pulled out the ring box and got on one knee. "John Wick, will you marry me and become my _husband_?"

John leaned down to Clara's ear, and soft as the whisper of a ghost of the memory of a dream, he said, "Yes."

"Um, a little louder?" Asked Clara, tapping the ring box with a finger.

"Yes!" John began to chant, repeatedly pointing up to the ceiling with triumphs.

"By the power vested in me by the New York underworld, I now pronounce you husband and wife. That'll be eleven forty-four." John stopped his celebrations and looked at Clara, who shrugged and took a stack of bills out from her coat and tossed it onto the counter. Don quickly flip-counted it, then took a few out and handed them back to her.

"Wait, did they just get married?" Asked a woman up in the loft. "I was always hoping John Wick would marry me!"

"And I've had a thing for Bartz for a while," Added a man perusing rifles.

"But you know that wouldn't work out, right?"

"And I've wanted to be John's husband, too!" Added a man holding several throwing knives. John and Clara looked at each other, and then at Don.

"Honestly, I'm used to this by now," He said dryly. John and Clara nodded, and heard guns being pulled out and fired as they dashed from Don Panini's. They jumped into the Vibe post-haste and got buckled, and John rolled down his window.

"Binky! You you know how to get back to the stable?" Asked John. Binky nodded, and with the cornernesses of his eye spied the door of Don Panini's opening. He floored the gas, and zoomed away.

"...Hold on, did that horse just nod?" Clara asked several moments later.

"Binky is just a good pony waiting for a talented rider- you couldn't ask for a better horse."

"When did you learn to ride?"

"There were a few years on the Mongolian Steppes when I was a very different man," John answered with mysteries. "Now, you wouldn't happen to know which airport Lukashenko's jets are at, would you?"

"No. But… I was only hooded on the way back, and I could tell they were taking lots of twists and turns to try to confuse me, and they dumped me off only about an hour and a half later."

"Hmm… smaller slash private airport within a short drive of the city… I think I know the one," John thought out loud. "'Give your enemy a golden bridge to retreat on'. The proposal was the bridge," John said, looking over to Clara.

"So Al was going to bomb the stadium anyways," Clara cleverly concluded. "But this is you he's dealing with, so his back-up plan has to have a back-up plan of its own."

"I had to deal with one of them on the way to Don Panini's, but I think with two plans down he's gonna have to scramble to get something together in time. I think we might be able to walk out of this in one piece if we can get the job done at the hangar."

Clara nodded, knowing John was good and honest with his survival guessing. "Would this count as an emergency, though?"

"You've just been itching to try out the rocket launcher, haven't you? Look, this isn't _quite_ what I'd call an 'emergency', but if we're dealing with military equipment we should have some ourselves." Clara pumped her fist with a frumious yesness.

The ride to the airport had tensenessings. They both recognized the predatory quiet, how it breath down their neck like a neckbeard stalking their childhood female friend. The suburbs reminisced Clara of the fresh dirt around a new grave. "The world is a vampire, set to drain…"

"Hmm? I didn't hear the music start," Said John.

"No music, just a mood," Clara explained. "And Smashing Pumpkins? Hello?"

"I honestly heard of them for the first time when Corgan bought the NWA."

"Dang. I knew you were older than me, but I didn't think you lived under a rock."

"Says the woman who doesn't know the lyrics to every Flock of Seagulls song."

"What?"

"Exactly." John looked over at Clara for a moment. "I'd thought you were more of a Nirvana girl, to be honest."

"Never been able to stand them, actually- but I do like a Foo Fighters song every now and then." Nodding, John made the turn to the airport. He could see the hangar looming behind the main building and parking lot, and drove over the curb past the office and terminal. "Just a thought, but do you know how to fly a plane, John?" John stayed quiet, having no answeringnesses. "I mean, I'm okay with a Cessna, but I don't think I can handle something like a fighter jet. Um, you weren't planning on hijacking one of the planes, were you?" Still John stayed silent, looking around for dangers. "...Huh. Hell of a time to find out the one thing you _can't_ do…"

"No guards I can see," Spoketh John. "Get ready to rumble." Coming onto the tarmac, John rolled in with quietness and then parked. He loaded up his guns and unbuckled, waiting for Clara to do the same and then get the rocket launcher before joining her. "Doubletime!" John whisper shouted. They made it to the hanger in just a few moments. Hearing something happening, with carefulness John peeked around the corner, and saw a worker with an equipment cart near a hose plugged into the jet. He motioned for Clara to wait, then tucked his gun away and walked in.

"You're early!" The mechanic lady shouted over the noise. She was super buff, and had curly hair.

"Test flight before a full one is my policy!" John said, faking interests in the jet. "Do you know if this has the goods for the flyover?"

"Flyover?" The mechanic lady asked, confuzzled. "I know there's gonna be a team getting here after lunch, but I didn't hear what they were going to be doing."

"Eh, that's alright," John said with a nonchalanting. As he fake inspected the plane, he noticed letters with the alphabet of Cyrillic on it. "Say, do you think there's enough in the tank for the flyover?"

"Probably. She should be full any second now."

"Perfect. Stop fueling the jet." Sighing and shaking her head, the mechanic walked over to the fuelling hub and flipped a few switches before the fuel noises stopped, and she got on her ladder and took the hose down and sealed things up. "Alright, she's good to-" John pistol whipped the mechanic lady, knocking her out.

"Clara!" She came running in, pausing a second to hit the door opening button when John motioned for it. "You're up! We've got to get this to Montauk as soon as we can."

"I knew it," Clara grumbled under her breath as John took the rocket launcher and she climbed up. He was right behind and kicked the ladder down, putting the launcher across his lap as he got buckled. "Oh! Not as complex as I'd thought. Guns, comms, radar… okay. There it is." Flipping the switch, Clara closed the top and started up the engines and rolled forwards as she continued to whisper and look over the controls. "Alright, helmet on! The runway's clear!" John obeyed, and a few torturously slow moments later they had arrivings.

"Bravo six eight, you're not on schedule!"

"You didn't see the test run?" John said.

"That's at nine thirty!"

"I guess my watch is off!" Lied John to the air traffic control.

With grinnings, Clara got to the runway. "Ready to fly?"

"Just come on and do some pilot shit already!" John shouted, on edge.

"I feel the need… the need for speed!" Opening up the throttle, Clara took the jet forwards and up tino the wildest of blue yonders, homedog. "Whew! Not nearly as bad as I'd thought! And you said Montauk? Like, the base, right?"

"Yeah, but there's a small problem with that: this is a Russian jet. We may have to eject over the bay."

"What? But it's like twenty minutes to the base, tops. This should be over before anyone can figure out what's going on!" Feeling a high-action walking to the spaceship music coming up, Clara began to sing.

"When the guns have been loaded  
And the die is cast  
You just gotta fly,  
And make it fast!

When you bullet the blue sky  
To where eagles scream,  
Open the throttle  
If you want to believe! Yeah!"

He was surprised by the high note Clara ended on, but John knew it was his turn now.

"If you're lookin' for trouble  
And flying on steel,  
Just go guns blazing  
Danger is real!

If you're fighting a hard war  
There's one way to go  
Fire the rocket  
And watch it blow!"

"Reach for the sky!  
Dream on and fly!" John and Clara sang together, holding the last note of the chorus.

"Oops, that's a plane." John was startled out of the music, and looked around. "Bogey on our six, John! Guess you were right."

"Do you think you could get close enough for the guns?"

"Hell no! I may have figured out how to fly this thing but I'm not a fighter pilot!"

Craning his neck around, John looked out of the window. "That's another jet! Lukashenko must have had the test flight scheduled for when they all landed. Try to get over the water!"

"Roger!" As Clara began the turn, the comm system came back on.

"Bravo six eight, you're needed back at the hangar! You weren't cleared for flight!"

"We're on our way to get the payload!" Lied John.

"What?! The missiles are on the way from Greene! Who's piloting the jet!"

"Sonic the Hedgehog and Larry the Cable Guy!" Clara rebutted with rebuttalnesses.

"Circle back to the hangar now!"

"Clara, it's the bottom of the 9th, the score is tied. It's time for the big one," Said John. "Do you trust me?"

"Holy _shit_ , John. Could not have picked a worse time to ask me that! But today? Today, I trust you!"

"Eject!" Waiting just long enough to get over the shoreline, Clara hit the ejection button that sent her and John blasting out of the plane.

Taking aim with the rocket launcher, John steadied his breath and fired. "Cool your jets, Lukashenko." Though the shot had not been fired at the plane, with the speed and wind it came on target, blasting through the cockpit of the jet. John dropped the launcher, and the parachute deployed. Wishing he'd had time to put on a flight suit, John looked around and spotted Clara; she was facing him, so he pointed down towards the beach. After a moment she waved back, and they began to angle in. There were breathless rushings as the ground lifted up towards them, and they became able to see a couple people on the beach shading their eyes as they looked up to them. Pointing at them, John did the "make it rain" gesture, and Clara nodded.

When it was time to land, Clara tossed her cash down to the beach. They tucked their chins and jogged forwards in the sand a little bit, getting out of the harnesses as soon as they stopped. They ran towards the houses while the beach goers were distracted by the money, not stopping as they hurdled the worn down fence and ferocious chihuahua leaping for their crotches; they vaulted over the fence and came into the front yard. Her eyes snapping onto the lime green Prius, Clara got her lock picking tool out of her coat and in just a few seconds unlocked the door. She was in the middle of hotwiring it as John got in and buckled up, and the car revved to life not long after.

A handful of minutes lathered with much adrenaline later, Clara turned off the parkway and stopped at a 7-11. She and John took their helmets off and got out, meeting at the hood. "Never do that again?"

"Never," John nodded with agreeings. There was an odd look in Clara's eyes, and before he knew it she flung her arms around his neck and planted one on him. " _Is- is this the legendary kissing technique of the lesbians?!"_ Thought John. With abruptnesses Clara broke off the lip lock, coughing and wiping her mouth on her coat sleeve.

"Yup. Not even a little bi." Fake clearing her throat, she looked back up to John. "Today is about things that will never happen again, so that was the first thing that came to mind to pay you back for trusting me enough to fly a fighter jet on a moment's notice."

"Thanks would have worked, too." Punching John in the arm, Clara smirked and walked into the store. They got a few kolachis and headed back out, their lack of adrenaline now feeling as of an ocean breeze. Back in the Prius Clara turned on the radio, and she and John toasted their kolachis as Africa by Toto started playing.

 **TH3 3ND**


End file.
